A/N: Hey guys, I know, I know, I shouldn't be starting another story while I've got 4 others still on hiatus. I've got a short attention span. Sue me. I'm trying. No worries though, it's summer now so the stories should be coming up at tenfold the speed they have been. Which isn't good, but hell, its better than what it is now. Mmk. Onto the story. Yeah, it's angsty. Only in the beginning though. Also, you might notice that this is a different writing style, completely off from what I have been doing. Let me clarify, I started this years ago. As a different story. But I never finished. So now I'm putting it to good use as a Spence/Ashley story. You'll be confuzzled at first. No worries, I clear everything up in the oncoming chapters. That said…READ. And review porfavor.

Disclaimer: I can't even afford Taco Bell, so it goes without saying that I don't own SON. Tom Lynch does. Probably because he has a cool name. Tom Lynch. Maybe you have to have a cool name to own stuff like this. I think I might change my name. I dunno, I'll let you know if I do. Also, yes, I did get the poem from 10 Things I Hate About You. I couldn't help it. It fits. I think.


Depressed? I'm not depressed. I couldn't be depressed. I'm fine. So I didn't want dinner last night…or the night before, I just wasn't hungry. So I've been a little withdrawn…I just have a lot on my mind right now. It's no big deal. Everything's okay. Fine. I'm Okay. I am notdepressed.

Three days. It's been three days. I can't believe it's been three days. I mean, not that I care. It's her fault. It's all her fault. She shouldn't have started that fight. She shouldn't have said those things. They weren't true. She's the reason we got in the fight, and she's the reason we're not talking. It's her fault. I can't believe it's been three days.

Ugh, my mother is going to nag me into an early grave. Doesn't she know I'm fine? Because I am. I'm fine. So my grades are slipping a bit…for god's sake woman, it's only a 'B'! I am sooo sorry I'm not the golden child you always wanted. And I'm still not hungry, so will she just drop it? She says she's worried, but I know it's just a generic doctor-kind-of-worry. A doctor/mother's worry. If she was anyone else, she wouldn't have cared. I am not depressed.

Wow, there's a lot about me that I didn't know. Until now anyway. Like, now, I know that I really, really hate my father for setting up an appointment with a therapist, from his office, for me. He thinks I'm depressed. I am not depressed.

I know even more now. I know I'm never going downstairs again. I know I am very opposed to the words "and how does that make you feel?" I am so opposed to them that if I hear them one more time, may god have mercy on the soul that mentioned them in my presence. They just don't understand. Don't care. No one does. No one ever does. She probably doesn't. No, scratch that. I know she doesn't.

My grades are taking a nose-dive. I know I should be worried, that I should be doing something to stop it…but I'm not and I don't. The counselor wants to talk to me about my 'problems'. She thinks I'm depressed. I am not depressed. I should probably be angry, but I'm not. Actually, I'm not feeling anything. Not a single emotion. It's like I'm empty. Void. Then, I passed her in the hall today and she wouldn't even look at me. It tore me apart.

Okay, so maybe I'm a little depressed. All I know is that I am miserable out of my mind. It's like my whole life is just one big, dull ache. I feel hungry, but the sight of food makes me sick. I haven't been speaking to anyone, nor do I want to. I don't want their pity. I don't care about the worried looks I'm getting. The teachers, my parents, my other friends, my grades…none of them matter anymore. Hell, I can barely function properly. I just wish things would go back to the way they were before.

They almost did too. Almost. But they didn't because I felt like being stupid and stubborn. I didn't even give her a chance. I had seen her in the hall, she was talking to one of her friends. Until she noticed I was there and smiled at me. I love that smile and yearned to smile back, but as usual, I just stood there, stock still…staring at her. She probably thinks I'm a freak. Or Looney. Like everyone else. It's hurt most because she knows me better than anybody I've ever met… and even she thinks I've lost it. I thought she knew me better. Apparently, I was wrong.

I was so deep in thought that I didn't even notice she had walked over until she was waving her hand in front of my face. What the hell. What…does she think I'm three or something? I scowled at her. "What do you want?" I asked her angrily. She had no right to be over here. Well, yes, technically, she did, but I wasn't thinking about that at the time. She looked taken aback, like I had slapped her or something, and I had to hold back a smirk. She probably hadn't expected that. But then she just stood there mouth agape, staring at me. I knew if I didn't say something, she never would. "Well?" I demanded. She was really starting to grade on my nerves. "Well, I…uh…I -I wanted- that is to say-" She stuttered stupidly. What an idiot. I couldn't stand her at that second. I knew that was a lie. I loved having her just stand there in front of me, shrinking under my glare. But my pride wouldn't let me admit it. Suddenly, she shook her head side to side like a wet dog. She looked at me once more then leveled my glare with a nervous gaze/serious glare kind of thing and said "Never mind." And then she walked away. All that for nothing? I think not, but I'm not about to chase her down to find out what it is.

Silence is golden. It's all I can think about. I didn't even bother to go to school today…not that anyone would miss me. Besides I don't think I could make it another day with her in the same building, while knowing I won't be going to her house after school. We won't talk about our day, or discuss homework problems, or watch movies and hang out or anything… at all. It usually didn't matter as long as we were together.

The silence is relaxing and suffocating at the same time. I feel like the silence if deafening, as if provoking me to, at any moment, explode…pour all my hurt and pain out into the open. But it won't help any, I know no one's listening. Other times, I realize that I've never known a silence like this before. It's soothing, relaxing, like nothing else exists except me and my thoughts.

The doorbell rang. Not that I care, but I went to answer it all the same. There was no one there. But really, could I blame them? I mean, who, in there right mind, would want to be caught talking to me. I'm not stupid. I can hear them whispering about me everywhere, in the halls, during class, after school…they're calling me the Looney chick. Madison was probably the mastermind behind this one. It probably should bother me, but it doesn't. I passed right by her today and she didn't even acknowledge I was even there. I can't go on like this…


It's been three days. The longest three days of my life. I can't believe I've managed this long without losing it. I thought that since I was so used to her presence, I would barely be able to do anything right since our fight. But I have and I am. I fine.

Man, who am I kidding? The last couple of days have been a living hell without her. I miss her terribly. I miss her coming over and talking to me, asking me about my day and telling me about hers, helping me with my homework, and just plain being there.

Why did I do it? Huh? Why would I go and start a fight like that with her? I am such an idiot. I couldn't even look at her in the hall today, I was so scared that she would look happy... ecstatic, even, that she would have that carefree look on her face that she always used to get when we used to hang out. Except she wouldn't be with me, she'd be with her other friends. She's probably forgotten all about me by now and just the thought terrifies me.

But I was right. And I think she knows that. I think that's why she fought about it. She knew I was right and she hated it. But I had to tell her. No one deserves what happened to her, what was going to happen to her. I was only trying to help. She should have known that. Why didn't she know that?

Yesterday was the first time I've seen her all week. I was talking to one of the kids in my English class, getting the homework, when someone bumped into me…I didn't even know it was her until she had passed. I wanted –needed- to talk to her, so I followed her, careful to keep my distance, waiting for a chance to talk. But something was wrong. The way she looked…it was like someone had sucked the life out of her. She walked like she was half asleep, dragging her feet, swaying slightly, but looking like she didn't really care…with an almost dead appeal. She looked gaunt, like a zombie. I had to talk to her.

I called out to her and she turned around. She just stared at me as I smiled and began walking over to her. The look of shock on her face astounded me. Did she really think I was never going to talk to her? Did she think I wouldn't want to be her friend anymore? She didn't listen when those other kids called her loony…did she? I sincerely hoped she didn't. If she did, I would make sure she knew that those kids couldn't tell a banana from a bus and not to listen to a word they said. She hadn't responded yet as I walked up to stand in front of her, so I waved my hand in front of her face in a friendly gesture to get her attention. Seeming to snap out of her reverie, she looked at me and her shocked look quickly became a scowl. Uh oh. "What do you want?" She asked angrily. Oh man, if looks could kill, I would've been long dead. The last time she looked at me like that was when I broke her most favorite doll when we were five. "Well?" she demanded impatiently and I suddenly noticed that I had just been standing there dumbly staring at her. "Well, I…uh…I –I wanted- that is to say-" I stuttered nervously, also noticing my sudden lack of nerve. "Spit it out." She said menacingly, her sharp gaze meeting mine. I knew this wasn't going to work. Not here anyways. I would stop by her house tomorrow and sort it out then. Until then…"Nevermind." And I walked away.

She wasn't at school that day. I hoped to every higher power out there that she was okay. I didn't know what I'd do if something happened to her. The next thing I knew, I was on her door step. Again. I raised a fist to knock on the door, but it wouldn't move. I figured if I stood there long enough, I would eventually get up the guts to knock…but after 30 minutes, I opted to ring the door bell.

Silence. That's what I heard. Nothing. It was almost deafening. But I knew she was home and after a couple of minutes, I started to hear some slight shuffling. She was coming. All the sudden, a panic filled my gut, all thoughts fled my mind, I didn't know what to do and it scared me…so I ran for it. I ran over to a nearby bush and ducked down. As I was looking over the top of the bush I knew that even though I could see her, she couldn't see me.

She answered the door, looking as tired and worn out as the other day. Her hair was mussed, dark circles filled the area below her eyes, and a solemn expression where her beautiful smile used to be. I suddenly had the urge to run over to her and pull her into my arms, whispering sweet nothings into her ear…I'm sorry…it'll be okay…I was wrong to throw that on you…it'll never happen again…I promise.

But I couldn't and it was killing me. She was just my friend, right? Wait were we? I hadn't even stopped to think about it. Were we still friends? Of course we were…well, at least I thought so. Did she still want to be friends with me? I didn't think I could handle it if she didn't, she was such a big part of who I am. I have to do something…something to remind her that I care…that I'd always be there…but what?

We were in class when it came to me. I hate the way it did, but it did. We had to do a poem based on something-or-other that Shakespeare said…I don't really know…I wasn't paying attention. I felt a pang of guilt. I had been relying on her giving me the notes because she had class with me.

The thing was that we had to read our poems in front of the class. He picked her to read hers. She didn't want to. He argued with her. I could tell it hurt her to argue with a teacher which meant there was something emotional in her poem that she didn't want other people knowing. I was ready to beat him into next week for doing that to her. Screw the fact that he's a teacher or the fact that I'd probably go to jail. No one does that to my best friend. But before I got the chance, she stood up, took her place in the front of the class and read:

I hate the way you talk to me

And the way you cut your hair.

I hate the way you drive my car.

I hate it when you stare.

I hate your big dumb combat boots.

And the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much it makes me sick.

It even makes me rhyme.

She paused and looked directly at me. I could feel my heart breaking from the look in her eyes.

I hate it...

I hate the way you're always right.

I hate it when you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh;

Even worse when you make me cry.

She began to cry as she continued to read and I suddenly felt that strong urge to just run up, pull her into my arms and brush away her tears.

I hate it when you're not around

And the fact that you didn't call,

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you;

Not even close;

Not even a little bit;

Not even at all.

And with that she took off, I could tell she was crying and my heart broke into a million pieces. But then I knew what I had to do. I have to prove to her that she's still the most important person in my life. I knew what to do.